


It Burns Like a Gin

by elisewrites



Series: Beautiful Wreckage [9]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conflict Resolution, F/M, POV Rio (Good Girls), Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soft Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisewrites/pseuds/elisewrites
Summary: He'll be the first to admit that he's been wrong before and will likely be wrong again.He's sharpened his judgement into quite the trusty blade, and it's on kilter for most occasions.Regardless, there are times when he misses the mark; where he hasn't considered every angle, seen through every façade, or gotten the leg up on his target.Those occasions have a steady track record of ending in carnage.When they're over and done with, he always seeks out the most efficient route to develop from it and overcome it.Forgiveness is a pain-staking, highly-trafficked route; one that he's found himself becoming less and less resistant to taking.





	It Burns Like a Gin

Elizabeth diligently maintains her distance for the remainder of the night, but Rio doesn’t mind it— he grants her space to collect herself from the day’s tumultuous events. He checks in with Marcus while she’s in the restroom, stepping out into the hallway to wish him a goodnight with the promise to be back before he wakes up. As per usual, Marcus’ babysitter attempts to wave off the offered compensation for the overnight stay; Rio insists, and she concedes with a sigh and a promise to call in the A.M.

When he wanders back into the apartment, he finds Elizabeth on the couch, attempting to make a suitable place to sleep out of the stiff leather couch and a thin throw blanket. He’s able to catch her eye when her head raises in response to the door shutting, and he juts his chin towards the bedroom in a clear instruction. 

He senses the fight rising in her before she can form the words to incite one, but shuts her down with a shake of his head that’s half to her and half to himself. She deflates quickly with a huff, and gathers herself enough to migrate to the bedroom. He smirks to himself before shutting off the lights and pulling the throw blanket over his own body, the fabric not nearly generous enough to reach the end of his legs, but he doesn’t notice.

Rio wakes Elizabeth bright and early; well, early, considering the sun hasn’t even breached the horizon yet, and she seems to be in a waking daze until he’s able to get some caffeine into her system. He makes a stop at a hole-in-the-wall coffee joint along their route to her home, but he can sense the nerves accumulating within her even as she takes greedy sips from the steaming paper cup. She’s drained it by the time they come upon her suburbs, and he catches it in his peripheral when her hand tightens into a fist on her thigh. 

Before he can think better of it, his hand is descending from the wheel to curl around hers in a sign of reassurance. He swears he can hear her breath catch, and when her eyes seek him out, he cants his head towards her, his eyes roving over her features before returning to the road. 

His modest show of affection seems to calm her slightly as they pull up along the curb opposite her front yard, and Rio isn’t surprised to find that there’s not a single trace of the bloody body that laid on her driveway ten hours ago. He can feel it under his palm when Elizabeth tenses further, straightening up from where she had been resting back against the passenger seat. She glances at him briefly, her brows raised in disbelief, before he gives her furled hand a squeeze and moves to kill the car’s engine. 

Rio's gaze lands expectantly on Elizabeth; she’s gazing warily at her front yard, her hesitance to exit the car evident as the silence builds between them. He’s in no rush — he simply watches her and waits, his body relaxed against the seat. His own posture rivals hers greatly, her spine rigid and her expression an eery, forced calm.

“Is he dead?”

He blinks over at her, unfazed by her bluntness as he drawls out, “What do you think?”

“Yes or no?” She snaps, and he shifts slightly in his seat, his jaw clenching at her tone.

He considers her for a minute, then nods.

She swallows once, nodding back tersely, and the flicker of something familiar in her expression draws the words out of him:

“Tryna pull shit like that, son of a bitch didn’t deserve to keep breathin’.”

She looks at him them, and he watches in satisfaction as the heavy inking of remorse in her eyes slips away into something more brazen, more determined.

“He couldn’t handle a bruised ego,” she says, disdain weighing heavily in her tone. 

“Pride’s done worse things to better people,” he responds lowly, his gaze wandering towards at a woman who has settled on her front porch a house over, a mug clutched in one hand while the other smooths over her skirt. Her gaze stalls on them for a moment, but shifts elsewhere before she seems to make anything of their presence.

“Speaking from experience?” She taunts lightly, drawing his attention back to her. She’s got the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, and Rio’s own turn up at the sight of it.

“Nah,” he responds easily, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip as Elizabeth snorts and looks away.

And there’s a moment in the following few seconds where both of their gazes return to one another, the moment as silent as it is loud. They just _look_ at each other, him taking in the first hint of a smile he’s seen on her face in what feels like years, because he can’t stand the thought of looking away. 

The moment is gone in a flash, though, and in the next Elizabeth is steeling herself with a fortifying breath before reaching for the handle on the door. Rio can’t think of an excuse to get her stay, so he doesn’t stop her.

The smell of her floral perfume lingers long after she’s disappeared from sight.

| |

Beth has a multitude of tasks that have been requiring her attention now that she’s returned home, but she can’t find the will to start on any one of them. She’s unable to focus on anything other than replaying last night’s events from memory, her mind desperate to seek out some clarity from within them.

A shift has occurred between her and Rio yet again; that much she’s sure of. The part she’s having trouble discerning is why last night served as the turning point.

She delays the unfinished housework by checking in with both Annie and Ruby, assuring them that she’s made it home safely and that she hadn’t meant to worry them with her call the night before. Annie assures her, albeit with a heavy use of colorful language, that she’s forgiven, but only after making her promise to share yesterday’s details over red wine and Real Housewives. 

Dean texts her sometime around noon, dropping a half-assed apology for his behavior and informing her that he’ll be dropping the kids off at the house later that night. Evidently, Judith isn’t in town to watch them, and he has dinner plans. Beth doesn’t respond.

The irritation and frustration that had gripped her the previous night seem to have made it out of her system, her emotions pre-occupied as she recalls every moment she shared with Rio in the apartment.

God, she had _apologized to him._

She doesn’t have any recollection of thinking through such a choice; doesn’t really believe she was thinking at all when the words slipped past her lips. An admission that had been lurking in her subconscious mind for nearly half a year had finally made it off her tongue without prompt nor premonition. Before the reality of it had even had the chance to sink in, he had been nodding his head at her; accepting it.

She still has no idea why.

Her impression of him in their first few months of contact gave incentive to the theory that he was not someone who forgave others without taking something in return. When she had struck him with his own keys, the moment had felt too heavy; he had pushed her too far, belittled her worth, and made her feel small in a way that she had adjusted to living without. While he hadn’t taken her life like she had been expecting him to, his payback was set up to wreck her from the inside-out.

When it seemed the playing field had finally evened out during her time at the dealership, he found a way to undermine her in that department, as well. He had found a way to run his real business right under her nose with no intention of letting her in on it, and all be damned if she didn’t feel obligated to take his medicine and serve it right back to him. 

Every one of her retaliations were brash, none of them truly thought-out, but they always gave her the cruelest sense of triumph. It was like taking a piece of herself back when she had devised a way to swipe the upper hand, the larger challenges always bumping up the euphoria that came with it.

The escalation of the shit-storm they spurred together was bound to end in disaster.

These thoughts follow her throughout the evening, a burden amidst all the chores that require her attention. Eventually, Dean drops the kids off, the ruckus of stampeding footsteps and good-natured bickering filling the empty house with warmth. Beth isn’t all there, though— not when Dean asks her about her night with faux innocence, or when Emma tugs on her sleeve, asking if they can draw with chalk on the driveway. 

Rather, her attention is immersed in all that she doesn’t say out loud— that last night was one of the most traumatic she’s ever experienced, yet it somehow manages to warm her up at the memory of how it ended.

She doesn’t disclose that the area where the kids choose to draw chalk outlines of various animals is the same spot where she had left a man to die, either. Instead, she grins in earnest when Danny scrambles inside, dragging her away from the dishes she had just started on and urging her out the front door to critique his drawing. 

“Look, mommy! It’s a bird, like from your friend’s neck!”

Her grin falters for only a moment before it doubles in measure, her head nodding absentmindedly as her eyes trace over the feathers of the poorly-drawn eagle. Her voice wavers slightly upon delivery when she finds a response, and it takes everything in her to resist releasing a manic giggle.

“Yeah, baby! It sure is.”

| |

Rio finds himself maintaining his distance in the weeks following the night he shared with Elizabeth, which isn’t usual for him when it comes to her. He’s been uncharacteristically cowardly, the fear of burning himself over her flame interfering with the urge to be near her, to touch her like he once did without hesitance.

Most nights, it’s the thought of her that he carries with him into unconsciousness. More often than not, it’s the feel of her skin beneath his fingers that he draws from memory. He relishes in how exhilarating it had felt to encroach on her space and fluster her after months of conceding to her limits.

There were plenty of nights following the incident in the loft where he speculated that frigidly bending her over the nearest flat surface was the only way he’d ever have his hands on her again. He hadn’t had the mindset to humor any ideas of forgiveness or warmth when it came to Elizabeth after that point, but the calling of his own bluff came to pass the first time he saw her face again. When the sight of her made his breath hitch in his throat, he knew he was screwed.

Some primal sense made him certain that they’d come together again eventually— the part in question, though, was in what setting, in what form, and in what way it would happen. 

Now, stalking across the playground while Elizabeth’s gaze tracks him from her spot on the picnic bench, Rio gets the feeling that said part might not be in question for much longer. Her text had come in no more than half an hour ago, the content of it vague yet urgent, and he had been waiting against the side of his car for the better part of ten minutes before it occurred to him that she was already there, her gaze penetrating as she willed him in her direction. 

Her expression is carefully neutral as it comes into focus, and he prolongs each stride as he closes in on her. The only movement she makes when he stops before her is to straighten her back, puffing out her chest slightly, and he doesn’t bother to catch himself when his gaze dips to clock it. It doesn’t throw her off balance like he expects it to, and her gaze is holding the same resolve when he meets it again.

After a moment of hovering above her, he wordlessly moves to take a seat on the bench next to her. When he sits, his jean-clad knee brushes against hers, and when she doesn’t move to create distance between them, he stifles his grin by casting his gaze out across the park.

“Isn’t this the part where you ask me?” She says straight off, and his eyes return to her as he arches an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” He asks softly, committing to memory the way her expression is open and vulnerable. 

Quick as anything, she’s flashing him a coy smile, before deliberately lowering her voice and answering, “_What do you want, Elizabeth_?_”_

And his vague outrage must be clearly written all over his face, if the bark of laughter she lets out is anything to go by, as he levels her with a glare.

“That supposed to be _me_?” He asks incredulously, both eyebrows raised in genuine offense.

She shrugs, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at her lips. He finds his gaze lingering on them for longer than he’s willing to admit, but if she notices, she doesn’t acknowledge it. They sit in a comfortable silence for a few beats, her gaze wandering while his wanders over her features, and he senses when her mood shifts.

“You didn’t ask what I was apologizing for that night,” Elizabeth starts, and Rio clears his throat lightly, meeting her eyes attentively, “and I started thinking that what I gave you wasn’t good enough.” 

His brows furrow as he tilts his head at her in question, but he doesn’t push her to elaborate. He watches her inhale deeply, gathering her thoughts among the hundreds clashing in her head, and waits.

“I don’t get it. I don’t get why you don’t hate me, I don’t get why you keep helping me, and I don’t get why I’m not dead,” Elizabeth concedes heavily. Rio tries keeps his face carefully impassive, but he can’t help it when he diverts his gaze, his jaw rocking in frustration, and it’s made worse by the fact that he can’t place why her concession burns like an wound she’s just prodded at. 

“But for what it’s worth,” she continues, and his eyes drift back to her, “I want you to know that I didn’t mean to shoot you. I was too overwhelmed to think rationally, and when you raised your voice, I just—“

He watches her throat move as she swallows thickly, before softly continuing, “I thought you were going to take me out, whether I shot Turner or not. I didn’t think I had any other choice, or the time to make it.”

He feels his resolve falter slightly, and he tilts his chin just a bit higher as he regards her with interest. She’s looking at her lap now, where her hands are fidgeting restlessly, and he almost places one of his own hands over hers before he catches himself. He clears his throat. 

“I shoulda saw it comin’. You been gettin’ better at this shit, but you ain’t wired for it,” he admits, and those bright blue eyes of hers widen when they flicker up towards his face. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she blinks furiously, words escaping her, and after a few seconds she’s settling back against the table.

“Why did you do it?” She asks, exasperation making her tone airy and desperate. He tilts his head to better look at her before angling his body to better face her, his knee brushing against the side of her thigh when he does so. Her gaze flickers down to it so quickly he may have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her so carefully, and he sees it when she swallows again nervously.

“Which part?” He asks, his voice a low, easy drawl.

Her brows furrow in distress as she shrugs her shoulders, glancing around them somewhat helplessly. “All of it? The part where you shoved a bag over my head, or when you ordered me to _murder_ someone like it should be simple after I’ve brought four more lives into this world than I’ve taken out of it!”

Rio shifts uncomfortably at that, rolling his shoulders back before bracing his elbows against his knees. He clenches his jaw, because suddenly he’s back in Elizabeth’s car in the carpool lane of her kid’s school, her hands clenching the wheel in a white-knuckled grip as she stresses to him _I can’t just kill somebody, I’m not a psychopath._

In the next instant, he’s leaning against the hood of his car, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets to refrain from reaching for her as she tells him _I can’t hide, not from you. And I can’t kill somebody, either, _and— 

And suddenly it’s every damn memory of her colliding in his head, blocking up his lungs, clamping down on his heart, blurring together until all he can see is fevered streaks of heated touches, timid lips, bourbon glasses and cold metal, a rich gold barrel glinting brilliantly under the hazy sheet of moonlight. 

Therein the construct of their entire history lies the answer he can’t bring himself to share: that he had himself fooled into thinking he could change her, despite knowing who she was, where she came from, and who she was doing it all for. He knows he only has himself to blame for so ignorantly believing that she would choose him over her morals. She was an enigma that he couldn’t help but investigate, despite his adverse regard to temperamental types like her.

“Bein’ a mama-o’-four, you should know that solvin’ every problem doesn’t help ‘em learn nothin’ from their mistakes,” he says, figuring that it’s the best explanation he could give without revealing too much of his hand to her. 

She scoffs lightly at that, and it’s reminiscent of her reaction that day in the bar, disbelieving in a way that he didn’t quite know what to make of it when he had felt the need to comfort her by telling her _I know_ _it’s lonely at the top. _Just like then, she’s displeased that he’s cut out the niceties and given her the honest truth, and, well, Rio doesn’t often bother with illusions.

“Whatchu want me to say, hm?” He asks, irritation seeping into his voice as his lips settle into a firm line. “Did you think I was playin’ when I told you that you only stay in this if you do it right? Trust me, sweetheart, that fed wasn’t gonna stop comin’ after you just cause you threw a wrench in his plan,” he drawls, his tone dripping with cynicism, but he thinks he at least owes her the honest version of whatever shoddy explanation he’s provided.

The irony behind his mention of trust isn’t lost on either of them.

It’s quiet for a few moments as his words settle over them like a blanket woven out of tension. He can see that she has more to say than she’s letting on, and with each passing second he finds it harder to resist reaching out to her just to watch her nerves scatter out from under his touch.

“Why do you care what happens to me? You’ve known for a while now that I can’t be what you want me to be,” she presses, and it settles low in his gut because he hates the certainty in her voice, hates that between him and that dumbass husband of hers, she isn’t able to truly see her worth. 

He sets his jaw as his gaze pointedly rakes over her form, greedily taking her in as if it’s the first time he’s done it, and he knows he’s got her attention when her shoulders straighten instinctually. 

“I ain’t proud of half the shit I did to get to where I’m at, and I gave up a helluva lot to get here. I ain’t ever told you that this shit don’t come with sacrifices, and it just ain’t possible to survive in this type’a business with your virtues intact. I think it’s time you quit selling yourself short, yeah?” he says, his voice low and patient in a way he’s only been with her on a handful of occasions. 

Up until the end of his sentence, she had maintained eye contact with him, her blue eyes searching his brown ones for something he presumes he hasn’t clued her in on verbally. She tears her gaze away from him just as the corner of her mouth tugs up, and she masks it by surveying the darkness of the environment around them. He thinks Elizabeth is like a beacon amidst it, drawing him in with the promise of brilliant refuge when she hasn’t the slightest clue anyone has even seen her.

“Elizabeth,” he murmurs, and her head pivots back in his direction. “We’re good, yeah?”

Rio can read it in her expression when it hits her, the memory of the last time he said those words, but it’s nothing more than a few rapid blinks and a slow intake of breath. She nods her head slowly, acknowledging his words, but she doesn’t affirm it verbally. He’s taken aback slightly when she turns the full force of her gaze on him, the intensity in it stirring up something low in his belly, but then she’s rising from the bench, looming over him for a change.

He tilts his head back, observing her silently and shifting back so that he’s sitting upright as she takes a small step to the side. She stands where her hips are parallel to his shoulders, and he feels his heart rate pick up when she takes a nearly imperceptible step towards him, her eyes hooded and her lips parted slightly. He swallows as subtly as he can manage, his legs widening subconsciously as to accommodate her further in his space. She makes full use of it, taking another step towards him so that her hips are in line with his knees.

His fingers twitch with the urge to touch her, to run his hands along her curves and draw her in so that he doesn’t ever lose her warmth again. She’s hesitant when she raises a hand to his shoulder, but when she glides her palm so that it’s resting up against his neck, there’s purpose in her touch. _Want, _even, he thinks as she repeats the motion with her other hand until both are clasping the base of his neck, frigid fingers curling against his warm skin and dipping just below the collar of his shirt.

Immediately, he’s reacting, his own hands finding where her waist dips above her hips and gently tugging her closer. He hears her breath hitch when he applies more pressure, his thumbs digging through layers of clothing to press into her hipbone. He feels her grip on him tighten slightly, and his brain just about short-circuits as she gingerly leans down, her head tilting so that her lips hover just above his.

In the same moment that Rio’s lips part with a shaky breath, Elizabeth is closing the distance between them.

His hands tighten even further as her lips glide across his, the moment as delicate as it is feverish. He tugs her closer still in an effort to do away with the space between them, groaning lightly when she pulls his bottom lip between her teeth. Her fingers are fisted in the collar of his shirt now, subconsciously tugging him in her direction, and he can’t get past how complete he feels with his mouth on hers.

When he feels her tongue glide across his top lip, he stands abruptly from the bench, startling her as his chest collides with hers. As quickly as they had broken the kiss, he’s chasing her mouth with his own again, his lips locking with hers like he can’t breathe without them.

Frustration unfurls in him when she breaks away, his hands tightening instinctually where they’re still grasping her waist, but she’s smiling up at him when his eyes drift open. His tongue darts out across his lips, the skin raw and electric from where she had bitten it. She releases her grip on his collar, one of her hands lingering against his neck while the other travels upwards to skim over his swollen bottom lip. His breathing is still slightly labored, as is hers if the rapid rise and fall of her chest is anything to go by.

Rio incrementally loosens his hold on her waist, content to simply study the way her pupils are blown against the brilliant blue of her irises, her full lips are red and slightly parted with each breath, and her porcelain skin is flushed along her cheeks as she holds his gaze steadily. 

He carefully raises one of his hands between them, his index and middle fingers outreached as he brushes a wayward strand of hair from where it’s nearly over her eye. He tucks the lock behind her ear before trailing his fingers down her cheek, the skin hot to the touch. She shudders lightly, her eyes fluttering like she might lean in again, before she widens the space between them.

Rio does his best to tamper down the disappointment stirring in his chest, as well as diminish the spark of heat in his belly that’s made all his blood rush south. He regards Elizabeth with interest, waiting on her to break the silence, and after watching her for several moments, he gets the inkling that she doesn’t really want to.

Once again, she glides her hands across the width of his shoulders, clasping his neck so that her thumbs are resting just underneath his jaw. She seems to examine him, debating over something in a conversation he can’t hear, before she’s leaning forward and pressing her lips to the edge of his jaw. His breath catches, but he doesn’t have the chance to pull her towards him as she backs out of his hold, his arms falling uselessly to his side. 

Elizabeth wraps her coat tighter around herself as she continues to take several remiss steps backward, and her smile leaks into her voice when she says, “Goodbye, Rio.”

It doesn’t hit him that he’s never heard her say his name until long after she’s out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S DONE. IT'S HERE. I HAVE AN UPDATE. (weeping into keyboard)  
i swear it feels like i had to chop off a finger and sacrifice it to satan in order to finish this part. i think my perfectionism's gotten the best of me again, but i'm finally satisfied enough with the progression of this part to call it complete.  
on the real though, this has been a tough month for me. i've had some more difficulties than usual with my mental health and jumping into my writing has offered an amazing refuge to that. i know how painful it is when authors take ages to update, but i really cannot thank everyone enough for the love and support on every part leading up to this one.  
it sounds like i'm saying goodbye, and even though beth actually does at the end, i promise that this series isn't over yet. i've given some thought to the idea of capping this series at the ten part mark, only because i feel like it's nearing its gradual plateau in the storyline. i started out writing this series as just a one-off attempt to ease the pain of the season finale and alleviate some of the despair for the future of brio, but it's turned into something i'm truly proud of. the part count will most likely be under twenty, but i haven't quit decided where i want to go with beth and rio after this update. as i already mentioned, i feel like the plot and structure of this divergence has started nearing the point where there's not much more i can do with it, and i don't want to squeeze more story out of one that's already relayed its message the way i intended it to.  
so yeah, not too many changes with me, as we can tell i still can't condense these notes into anything short of a soliloquy.  
i've already started gathering dialogue prompts for fictober (even though it's likely that by the time i get to them it'll already be november), so even when i decide that this series has run its course, i'm still going to be writing up a storm for those who are committed enough to keep reading my stuff.  
one final side note: you've probably noticed that this series is listed under a different name than its previous one, which was "kill our way to heaven." that first title is from a song i was enthralled with at the time, and i thought it was fitting, but beautiful wreckage is the name of a poem that i'm performing for a competition, so it came to mind when i knew that i wanted to change up the format of this series. the message of the poem is actually quite similar to that of brio's tumultuous relationship, and i thought that it was fitting for a series that is sort of raising these two out of the rubble in order to bring beauty back into their perspectives of one another.  
i also decided i wanted to capitalize my titles. sorry fellow lowercase enthusiasts.  
if you're still reading this, i am sending you a virtual gold star. you deserve it.  
anywho, that's all from me for now. until next time, i love you all always, and i hope that this part made you smile :)


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